Book Read Free

The Boy from Left Field

Page 9

by Tom Henighan


  For most of the morning until recess they worked at geological studies, and rock collections came into play, charts showing varieties of rock formations, regions, and sites of origin, and the way rocks figured in architecture, sculpture, temple-building, and worship. When the bell rang and they lined up to go outside, Charles came up behind Hawk, bumped him, making it seem like an accident, and slipped something into his pocket. In the schoolyard, Hawk dodged away from Panny and Albert and cast a quick glance at what Charles had palmed on him. It was a small cardboard picture about half the size of a playing card that showed, in black and white, a sneering image of a skull and crossbones. A single word had been written in red ink under the crossed bones: MONDAY.

  Hawk shuddered despite himself. Panny ran over and joined him, Albert puffing along behind. “Hey, you okay?” she asked Hawk. “You know I’m worried about Martin. I haven’t heard a thing from him. He was supposed to track down Elroy, remember? If I don’t get a message by the time school’s out, I’m going to start to really worry. Everything okay with that project idea?”

  “Sure, the teachers liked it. And my dad is teaching me lots of things. I know I can do it.”

  For the rest of the day, Hawk tried to concentrate on his work, but it was difficult. The skull-and-crossbones card seemed to radiate bad vibes from his pocket, upsetting his train of thought. He knew he ought to talk to his teachers about it, but right now he was scared to do it. He would talk to Panny first. Maybe she could help him get in touch with his inner strength.

  At the end of the day, Ms. Clarke led them through gym class. “She’s great,” Panny whispered. “She can do a double cartwheel.”

  At first they played dodge ball, and then Ms. Clarke appointed a student leader and an assistant. They conferred and made up a game for the class to play. It was a complicated game with ropes, bars, and basketballs. Some of the kids complained about the rules. “All right,” Ms. Clarke said to the two leaders, “now you have to resolve the situation. Either make your rules clearer or change them.” The leaders conferred and came up with a revision that the class liked. Hawk was keen on the game. At one point he tossed a ball very hard and hit Charles in the back. It was an accident. The other boy approached him slowly. His glance was dark-eyed, dangerous. He gave Hawk a slight, covert shove, and said, “Monday!”

  When the final bell sounded at last, Panny came up to Hawk and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Albert along. I told him what was going on and I thought he could help us out. And in case things go bad, his cousin’s a cop, so maybe we could get him to help us, too.”

  “That’s great,” Hawk answered, smiling. “The more of us, the better.”

  Panny signalled to Albert, and the three walked out of the school and took off together in the direction of Chinatown, talking all the way. (To simplify things, Panny had left her bike at home.)

  As they walked, Hawk fingered Charles’s skull-and-crossbones card in his pocket. He wanted to tell his new friends everything and get their advice, but he just couldn’t find the right words.

  Panny didn’t notice Hawk’s discomfort. She had something else on her mind. “I heard from Martin,” she said. “It’s pretty bad. He followed Elroy, but the gang caught him and he had to run for his life. Our friend sounded pretty shaky. He was a little nervous to come over to Chinatown from his aunt’s apartment. That isn’t like Martin. Anyway, he wants to meet us at the Schnitzel House Restaurant on Gerrard, near my house. His aunt eats there and he knows the owner, so he feels safe. He’s found out something big about the Rippers, but he seemed almost scared to tell me on the phone.”

  “Martin scared? I can’t believe that,” Hawk said.

  “Who chased him?” Albert asked.

  “No idea,” Panny said. “We’ll find out in a few minutes.”

  They walked west on the Danforth, then bore south past Withrow Park and headed toward the colourful array of stores that made up Chinatown East. The Schnitzel House seemed out of place here. It was a relic of past times and sat uneasily beside the bustling Asian markets and restaurants like an old aunt watching a lively party that she couldn’t quite join. There was something gloomy, and maybe a little grimy about the place, Hawk thought. It smelled of sausages, beer, and noodle soup, and was occupied at that moment by only three or four customers, grey-haired men chatting away in German or Hungarian. They gave the kids a brief, curious glance as they entered.

  A bald man in a white apron stepped out of a passageway and greeted the three youngsters. “Hello, you kids are here to see der Junge Martin? Good! Come right this way.”

  He whisked them away down the hall and opened a door to reveal a small private room decorated in faded green and gold. Martin stood smiling by an old oak table. Panny introduced Albert and Martin, then they all sat down. Martin said, “I’m glad you made it. I had a bit of a problem yesterday.”

  “The Rippers spotted you?” Hawk asked.

  “More than that! I followed them down to South Riverdale and hid out in a nearby lot, keeping an eye on the house that Elroy went into. It wasn’t that far from the house he lives in — the one we all saw. The gang must have seen me following them, and a couple of them crept up and jumped me. They took me to some warehouse nearby. They made me talk to Ringo. He didn’t say much, just kept smiling. It was scary. They asked a lot of questions and lifted my cellphone, but Elroy spoke up for me and I managed to escape.”

  “Elroy?” Albert asked. “You mean the guy who has Hawk’s baseball glove?”

  “Yeah. And there were a couple of others besides Ringo there too. Tough teens. They said weird things, like they were going to cut me up, or throw me in the Don River. They asked why I was bugging Elroy, and whether you’d gone to the police about your glove, Hawk. They wanted to know where you’d moved to, because the Oldsmobile was gone from Selim’s. I told them I didn’t know much about you — I just played baseball with you. I told them you’d pay me if I got your glove back — that’s why I was following Elroy.”

  “But Elroy knew it wasn’t just that,” Hawk said. “We scared him on the field and accused him of being connected with the Rippers.”

  “I know, but for some reason — maybe because he doesn’t like the Rippers now — he tried to cover for me.”

  “That’s good news,” Panny said. “I was pretty sure the Rippers were pressuring him. So how did you get away?”

  “Elroy kept telling them they had to let me go. We were in some kind of cellar. Finally he just shoved the door open and told me to run. I took off and ran like hell. They chased me for a block or so, but I got out to some busy street and they gave up.”

  “I wonder what happened to Elroy?” Hawk asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. They had just had a visit from a guy who must be the big boss. I watched the whole thing. He arrived in a fancy black car with a chauffeur and they treated him like he was the king or something — Mr. Big. That’s how they caught me — I got a bit distracted watching, and a couple of them sneaked up on me. Mr. Big was just leaving, just driving away when these young guys, gang members, jumped me. I think Mr. Big was there to meet Elroy, to welcome him to the gang. I think Panny was right about Elroy being used by them. They were trying to impress him. So maybe they didn’t care that I got away. I was just some guy who turned up by accident. They figured they could just shoo me away. I don’t really think they would have hurt me — but it was scary.”

  “So this Mr. Big — what did he look like?” Albert asked.

  Martin didn’t answer. He looked from one to another of his friends, and finally his eyes rested on Panny.

  “That’s the funny thing. When I called you from my aunt’s apartment, Panny, I couldn’t quite get this out on the phone, but there was one thing I noticed about Mr. Big — he was a very well-dressed guy, filthy rich, I guess, and he was Asian, maybe Chinese.”

  Chapter 13

  Right Up Panny’s Street

  They all looked shocked. Then Panny smiled. �
��I’m not worried. Every group has its problems, right? But how did you know the guy was Chinese? Not all Asians are Chinese!”

  Martin smiled. “I know that. I wasn’t sure, until I remembered that I’d gone to dim sum with my aunt one time, and I noticed the same guy, or someone who looked an awful lot like him, at another table. He was dressed in a suit and tie and looked different from all the others — important. I was curious, so I asked my aunt about him. She knew the restaurant owner, and he told her the guy was a big shot in the Chinese community, a rich guy who supported a lot of charities. I think the owner didn’t want to go into more detail, even though he may have known more.”

  Panny smiled. “Sure, that’s how it goes all right. I guess he thought the less you outsiders knew about the Asian gang scene, the better!”

  She winked, laughed, opened the hall door, and pointed the way for the others. “Don’t worry! The fact that Mr. Big is Chinese makes it all the easier to check him out. The person we need to see is Professor Sam.”

  They left the Schnitzel House in a hurry, calling out their thanks to the bald-headed manager. Back on the busy street, Panny gave them instructions. “I’m heading home to get my bike and to pick up Chew-Boy. If you walk two streets east and turn right you’ll be on Emerald Avenue. Look for Number 202. That’s where Dr. Sam lives.” She glanced at her watch. “He should be there right now, but I’ll call him on the way just to make sure. See you in about ten minutes! And by the way, don’t buy any food. Dr. Sam always has great stuff to eat.”

  As Panny sprinted away down a side street, the three boys walked on slowly down Gerrard.

  “Wow! You think this rich guy really is the head of the Rippers?” Albert asked Martin.

  Martin shook his head. “I don’t think so. He must be into other things. More important things. He probably just uses the Rippers to do some of his dirty work. I hope they don’t beat up Elroy. He can help us.”

  “I wonder who Dr. Sam is.” Hawk said.

  “We’ll soon find out,” Albert replied.

  It didn’t take the boys long to find 202 Emerald. It was a medium-sized brick apartment block, neat and tidy, with small balconies, some of them decorated with plants and flowers.

  They had been killing time hanging around outside the building for only a few minutes when Panny zoomed down the street, red panniers catching the light and a white fluffy animal squirming around in the front basket of her bike.

  “He’s up there!” she shouted to them. “Second floor. I’ll lock my bike in the lobby. Here’s Chew-Boy — see how happy he is to be going visiting! He can protect us if we get ambushed.”

  The boys laughed. The idea of that animated muff protecting anyone seemed pretty doubtful.

  “Don’t laugh!” Panny said. “Chew-Boy is a real killer.”

  They laughed again and trooped up the stairs. Panny led them to Apartment 26 and knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Panny! It’s open,” said a clear, bright voice.

  They stepped into the apartment, walked down a long book-lined hall, and came out in a big sitting room, a comfortable space that contained more books, a sofa, armchairs, and a work table stacked with computer equipment. The walls were covered with paintings and posters. Some of them were crime posters, police “wanted” notices, and photographs of crime scenes.

  A tall, slender man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and low cowboy boots greeted them. He nodded to each of them as the boys were introduced.

  “Quite a gang, Panny! They all look pretty smart — must be from your gifted class.”

  “Right on!” Panny told him. “This is my cousin, Sammy Chang,” she explained to the boys. “He’s a professor of criminology at York. Knows just about everything you’d want to know — and maybe more — about crime and gangs in Metro Toronto. Usually has some food around, too.” She looked at him expectantly.

  “Your timing is good, Panny — as usual. Good to see Chew-Boy, too.” He laughed and his horn-rimmed glasses, hanging by a string, bobbed up and down on his shirt. He disappeared into the kitchen and they heard some rattling dishes. Hawk and the other boys studied the posters.

  “Wow! Look at this one — ‘Street gangs of Toronto and area’ — I wonder if the Rippers are on here.”

  “And here’s a wanted poster for some serial killer,” Albert pointed out. “The Mississauga Strangler. Suspected of thirteen murders. Last seen east of Toronto stuck on a stalled GO train and carrying an orange suitcase.”

  “He doesn’t exist,” Panny told them. “My cousin’s students made some up for a joke. Oh, boy! That looks good, Dr. Sam!”

  The young professor had carried out a large tray weighed down with spring rolls, barbecued pork buns, won ton crackers, chicken wings, and egg tarts. “There’s some orange soda on the counter out there,” he told them.

  “Of course you guys realize that you’re eating my supper,” Sammy added, with a wry smile. “But don’t worry. My girlfriend’s just invited me out for Indian food.

  “Now, Panny, what’s all this about these gangs you’re scouting? — It’s not something I would recommend, by the way,” he added.

  “It’s okay, we’re not being stupid about it,” Panny reassured him. She picked off some chicken from one of the wings and fed it to Chew-Boy. ”We know it’s dangerous stuff to get into, but it wasn’t our fault. The Rippers gang stole a baseball glove from my friend Hawk here. They gave it to a boy named Elroy, and we think they’re using him to do some bad stuff. We just want to get the glove back, get Elroy out of trouble, and pass along the case to Albert’s cousin, who’s with the police. But now Martin here, our main scout, has spotted something unexpected and we thought we’d check it out with you.”

  “Very good. So check.”

  “Well, you know something about the Chinese gangs in Toronto, right?”

  “A few things, sure. It’s one of my specialties.”

  “So could there be some Chinese gang that’s using some kid street gang like the Rippers to pull off things, and could that gang be headed by a well-dressed, grey-haired, distinguished-looking Chinese gentleman who gets driven around town in a black limo?”

  “That’s a blue suit for the gentleman,” Martin cut in. “And the car is an old Cadillac or Lincoln, or something like that — but in great condition.”

  Professor Sam considered this. “Wow! That’s a pretty general description. It isn’t going to help the police very much if they have to look for these guys. I probably can’t identify this fellow you’ve seen, Martin, or tell you for sure if he’s connected to the Rippers. Tell you what, I’ll just fill you in on the Chinese gang scene, and then, if you think there may be a connection, you can go to the police. But before I tell you anything, you’re going to have to promise not to take on this crowd by yourselves. I don’t care if you do hang out in a gifted class — this could be dangerous territory!”

  “Sure, we all agree to that, don’t we, boys?” Panny glanced around her circle and each of her friends nodded. The professor saw this and continued.

  “Okay. First of all, I should mention triads. This is a special Chinese idea. It goes way back to the eighteenth century and was the basis of some secret patriotic societies of the time. The sign used by these societies was the triangle, or triad, the three-way connection of heaven, Earth, and humans. Over time these triad societies became criminal organizations. When China was ruled by the Maoist Communists, these societies tended to work from Hong Kong, which was still under British rule. From there the gangs spread out to wherever Chinese people settled…. Now, you know, these gangs are secret and they demand loyalty from their members. They may not threaten every individual, but they can be like bullies in the schoolyard. If they notice you and you don’t co-operate with them, or if you try to stand up against them, you can get into big trouble.”

  Hawk felt his throat go dry. He squeezed the already crumpled skull-and-crossbones card in his pocket. Gangs and bullies, secret societies. But his father had taught him that he,
too, was a warrior. A good warrior. He had to keep in touch with the fire inside him.

  At this point, Albert raised his hand.

  “A question?” Dr. Sam asked. “Fire away! Or maybe I shouldn’t put it like that when we’re talking about gangs!”

  Albert and the others laughed.

  “Is it something like the Mafia?” Albert asked.

  “Good question, Albert. Yes, it is, with some big differences, of course. Now, the triads have operated in Canada for some time — there must be at least eight to ten thousand members across the country. They do lots of nasty things, and they’re a great embarrassment to the Chinese community. The triad gangs here have their specialties. They do a lot of counterfeiting and credit card theft and forgery. They deal with illegal movies and DVDs and stuff like that. They smuggle specimens of endangered species. Not to mention car theft, gambling, drugs — and many other nasty things that make them a lot of money.”

  At this point Hawk raised his hand. He was so excited he could hardly speak, but he managed to get control of himself. “Excuse me, Dr. Sam. Could these triads also deal with sports souvenirs? I mean, could they forge things like autographs and signed pictures and hockey cards and stuff like that?”

  The professor slipped off his glasses and let them hang on their string, then began to push them back and forth in front of him as he spoke.

  “Definitely! I can see you kids are from a gifted class. These criminals go with the flow, Hawk. They find or steal what the market wants. There are lots of people in Canada who collect sports mementos and souvenirs. So why not forge them and make some money?”

  Hawk remembered what Mr. Rizzuto had told him: There are a whole lot of forgers and guys who peddle counterfeit stuff. They make money from their swindles so they can afford big prices to buy real authentic stuff.

 

‹ Prev